


burned out from a joyride

by spiralingcosmos



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, i guess??? im bad at tagging, i just think ashes and nastya should be friends, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24835282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralingcosmos/pseuds/spiralingcosmos
Summary: ashes has a nightmare; as a result, they make a new friend.
Relationships: Ashes O'Reilly & Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	burned out from a joyride

**Author's Note:**

> CW: alcohol, nightmares, light descriptions of burning/fire and smoke
> 
> uhh hi! this is my first mechs fic and it's pretty short because it was mostly a practice fic so i can get used to writing for these folks. also there is just Not enough ashes content in general, which is a crime, so i intend to rectify that! also i am going to write so much ashes n nastya friends stuff. simply because i think they should be friends. title from almost (sweet music) by hozier!

Ashes comes away from an unsteady sleep, screaming in a language no one else speaks. They don’t know where they are, _can’t_ know where they are, but they can feel the warm tongues of flame licking higher and hotter. Smoke fills their lungs, choking the breath out, but —

But —

A cold hand comes to rest on their forehead, pulling them out of whatever half-dream they were trapped in. 

Ghostlike, all slender and pale, the figure that Ashes can’t quite recognize gently tugs the tangled blankets away, hands them a glass of something. Ashes takes it gingerly, and vaguely makes out the taste of whiskey, but their mouth is still too clouded with the taste of burning to really appreciate it. It stings going down.

When they look up again, they see Anastasia standing there. At least, that’s what the Doctor called her. Ashes hasn’t actually spoken to either of the other occupants of the ship yet. Only seen them in passing.

“I heard you,” Anastasia whispers. “Are you alright?”

Her speech is stilted and unsure, the Common heavily accented by another language that Ashes doesn’t recognize, and laced with the memory of something posh and demanding. 

Ashes takes a minute to clear their throat. “Yeah, uh — just a nightmare.” The words come out feeling wrong, and bring with them a hot wave of embarrassment. What kind of a thing is that to admit to a complete stranger?

Anastasia nods sympathetically, which is honestly the last thing Ashes wants. Sympathy never did them any good before, and it certainly wouldn’t now.

“I understand. Was it about…?”

The question, admittedly vague but somehow clear in its implication, catches Ashes off-guard. “Uh… yeah, actually. How'd you know?”

“We all have them, I think. Probably just part of the process,” Anastasia murmurs, fidgeting with the edge of her sweater sleeve. 

Now that they’ve noticed it, she looks cold. The sweater is heavy, and beneath it she wears a thick nightdress. Her lips are tinged faintly blue, and every so often a weak shiver runs through her. 

“Sorry, but who’s ‘we?’” Ashes asks suddenly. 

Anastasia chuckles softly, almost fondly. “That would be you, me, and Jonny.” Her tone changes almost imperceptibly, but the venom hidden in her words still comes through. “I did not include Dr. Carmilla in that statement.”

Jonny would probably be Jonathan, then, the other inhabitant of the ship. Ashes had seen him once or twice, but they’d never spoken.

“And you’re Anastasia, right?”

Anastasia visibly stiffens at the name. Ashes immediately wonders if they’ve done something wrong, or offended her somehow, but they have no idea what.

“It’s Nastya,” she corrects. “Just Nastya. Please.”

“Got it. Nastya.” Ashes doesn’t say anything else. There really isn’t anything to say.

Nastya seems to have come to the same conclusion, because she takes the empty whiskey glass from Ashes and makes as to leave.

She pauses in the doorway. “If you ever need anything, come find me. In a pinch look for Jonny, but he’s a bit more likely to shoot you.”

Before Ashes can even decide if she’s being serious, Nastya is gone, leaving Ashes alone with the fading memory of liquor on their tongue. They don’t bother pulling the blankets back up before they finally fall asleep again.

This time, they don’t dream. Instead, they get a full night’s rest for the first time since they awoke with metal in their chest and smoke in their eyes.


End file.
